One Wednesday afternoon about the middle of October found Marjorie and Dona walking along the road in the direction of Whitecliffe. They were policed by Miss Norton, who was taking a detachment of exeat-holders into the town, so that at present the company walked in a crocodile, which, however, would soon split up and distribute its various members. It was a lovely, fresh autumn day, and the girls stepped along briskly. They wore their school hats, and badges with the brown, white, and blue ribbons, and the regulation “exeat” uniform, brown Harris tweed skirts and knitted heather-mixture sports coats.
“Nobody could mistake us for any other school,” said Marjorie. “I feel I’m as much labelled ‘Brackenfield’ as a Dartmoor prisoner is known by his black arrows! It makes one rather conspicuous.”
“Trust the Empress for that!” laughed Mollie Simpson, who was one of the party. “You see, there are other schools at Whitecliffe, and other girls go into the town too. Sometimes they’re rather giggly and silly, and we certainly don’t want to get the credit for their escapades. Everybody knows a ‘Brackenfielder’ at a glance, so there’s no risk of false reports. The Empress prides herself on our clear record. We’ve the reputation of behaving beautifully!”
“We haven’t much chance of doing anything else,” said Marjorie, looking rather ruefully in the direction of Miss Norton, who brought up the rear.
At the cross-roads the Andersons found their cousin, Elaine, waiting for them, and were handed over into her charge by their teacher, with strict injunctions that they were to be escorted back to their respective hostels by 6.30.
Marjorie waved good-bye to Mollie, and the school crocodile passed along the road in the direction of Whitecliffe. When the last hat had bobbed round the corner, and the shadow of Miss Norton’s presence was really removed for the space of four whole hours, the two girls each seized Elaine by one of her hands and twirled her round in a wild jig of triumph. Elaine was nearly twenty, old enough to just pass muster as an escort in the eyes of Miss Norton, but young enough to be still almost a schoolgirl at heart, and to thoroughly enjoy the afternoons of her cousins’ visits. She worked as a V.A.D. at the Red Cross Hospital, but she was generally off duty by two o’clock and able to devote herself to their amusement. She had come now straight from the hospital and was in uniform.
“You promised to take us to see the Tommies,” said Marjorie, as Elaine turned down the side road and led the way towards home.
“The Commandant didn’t want me to bring visitors to-day. There’s a little whitewashing and papering going on, and the place is in rather a mess. You shall come another time, when we’re all decorated and in apple-pie order. Besides, we haven’t many soldiers this week. We sent away a batch of convalescents last Thursday, and we’re expecting a fresh contingent in any day. That’s why we’re taking the opportunity to have a special cleaning.”
“I wish I were old enough to be a V.A.D.!” sighed Marjorie. “I’d love it better than anything else I can think of. It’s my dream at present.”
“I enjoy it thoroughly,” said Elaine; “though, of course, there’s plenty to do, and sometimes the Commandant gets ratty over just nothing at all. Have you St. John’s Ambulance classes at school?”
“They’re going to start next month, and I mean to join. I’ve put my name down.”
“And Dona too?”
“They’re not for Juniors. We have a First Aid Instruction class of our own,” explained Dona; “but I hate it, because they always make me be the patient, as I’m a new girl, and I don’t like being bandaged, and walked about after poisons, and restored from drowning, and all the rest of it. It’s rather a painful process to have your tongue pulled out and your arms jerked up and down!”
“Poor old girl! Perhaps another victim will arrive at half-term and take your place, then you’ll have the satisfaction of performing all those operations upon her. I’ve been through the same mill myself once upon a time.”
The Traffords’ house, “The Tamarisks”, stood on Cliff Walks, a pleasant residential quarter somewhat away from the visitors’ portion of the town, with its promenade and lodging-houses. There was a beautiful view over the sea, where to-day little white caps were breaking, and small vessels bobbing about in a manner calculated to test the good seamanship of any tourists who had ventured forth in them. Aunt Ellinor was in the town at a Food Control Committee meeting, so Elaine for the present was sole hostess.
“What shall we do?” she asked. “You may choose anything you like. The cinema and tea at a café afterwards? Or a last game of tennis (the lawn will just stand it)? Or shall we go for a scramble on the cliffs? Votes, please.”
Without any hesitation Dona and Marjorie plumped for the cliffs. They loved walking, and, as their own home was inland, the seaside held attractions. Elaine hastily changed into tweed skirt and sports coat, found a favourite stick, and declared herself ready, and the three, in very cheerful spirits, set out along the hillside.
It was one of those beautiful sunny October days when autumn seems to have borrowed from summer, and the air is as warm and balmy as June. Great flocks of sea-gulls wheeled screaming round the cliffs, their wings flashing in the sunshine; red admiral and tortoise-shell butterflies still fluttered over late specimens of flowers, and the bracken was brown and golden underfoot. The girls were wild with the delight of a few hours’ emancipation from school rules, and flew about gathering belated harebells, and running to the top of any little eminence to get the view. After about a mile on the hills, they dipped down a steep sandy path that led to the shore. They found themselves in a delightful cove, with rugged rocks on either side and a belt of hard firm sand. The tide was fairly well out, so they followed the retreating waves to the water’s edge. A recent stormy day had flung up great masses of seaweed and hundreds of star-fish. Dona, whose tastes had just begun to awaken in the direction of natural history, poked about with great enjoyment collecting specimens. There were shells to be had on the sand, and mermaids’ purses, and bunches of whelks’ eggs, and lovely little stones that looked capable of being polished on the lapidary wheel which Miss Jones had set up in the carpentering-room. For lack of a basket Dona filled her own handkerchief and commandeered Marjorie’s for the same purpose. For the first time since she had left home she looked perfectly happy. Dona’s tastes were always quiet. She did not like hockey practices or any very energetic games. She did not care about mixing with the common herd of her schoolfellows, and much preferred the society of one, or at most two friends. To live in the depths of the country was her ideal.
Marjorie, on the contrary, liked the bustle of life. While Dona investigated the clumps of seaweed, she plied Elaine with questions about the hospital. Marjorie was intensely patriotic. She followed every event of the war keenly, and was thrilled by the experiences of her soldier father and brothers. She was burning to do something to help—to nurse the wounded, drive a transport wagon, act as secretary to a staff-officer, or even be telephone operator over in France—anything that would be of service to her country and allow her to feel that she had played her part, however small, in the conduct of the Great War. As she watched the sea, she thought not so much of its natural history treasures as of submarines and floating mines, and her heart went out to Bevis, somewhere on deep waters keeping watchful guard against the enemy.
It was so delightful in the cove that the girls were loath to go. They climbed with reluctance up the steep sandy little path to the cliff. As they neared the top they could hear